Hold the Lantern High
by Ku-chyan
Summary: If she wants to be close, closer, then that’s – well, he’s not a good enough man to push her away for long. --Johnny/Claudia--


Why yes ,this is incest. Unless we get some big reveal that they aren't siblings. What can I say? (I did it for the lulz?) It's not even that strange, the writers practically have them doing it on screen all the time. Z is for dysfunctional. Although surprisingly, this was a lot less fun to write than I thought it would be. In fact, it was pretty boring. (And before anybody flames--please, please don't bother. I know it's gross. It's just a short, fictional piece about characters that are already fiction to begin with.).

Another unbeta-ed little thing. Please point out any mistakes so I can fix them!

* * *

**Hold the Lantern High**  
Johnny Zacchara/Claudia Zacchara

**A sibling may be the keeper of one's identity, the only person with the keys to one's unfettered, more fundamental self. Marian Sandmaier**

* * *

"John." She says, eyes wet and lips quivering, and he knows he'll never be able to deny that. "Johnny."

He's pulling her close almost as much as he's pushing her away, almost, and her crimson red fuck-me nails dig into his chest, securing her place.

"Claudia." He says, a little desperately, but she never listens when she's like this. "Don't."

The air around them settles, heavy and thick with tension and dust and the heady scent of Claudia's perfume. She's close enough to smell, close enough to taste and he keeps his lips firmly shut and turns his head to the side. This place is hollow and empty and brimming with a thousand and one things they would rather not remember. The hardwood floor is both familiar and cruel under Johnny's thin socks, cold to the point of being frigid, but he doubts Claudia can tell. Three o' clock in the morning and she's still wearing those fucking shoes, red and strappy and clashing with the soft cream of her negligee.

The dark of this office in encompassing. Even the light of the dim lamps are swallowed by it, that tangible fear that lurks. There's a real world out there, somewhere, if they cared to look, but they don't. That world has failed them again, set that bastard free. (is that why Johnny found himself laying awake on a cold night? Struck by that thought, that fear, that urge to reassure himself that his father wasn't sitting and smiling behind that desk.)

"But Johnny." Claudia whines and he can feel her eyelashes on his cheek. "I want…" Of course Claudia wants. Claudia wants and has wanted all her life and she's probably never going to stop. Not now, not ever-and the thing about Claudia is when she wants something, she really _really _wants it. The thing about Johnny is that he inevitably always _always_ gives Claudia what she wants.

He'd come down looking for something. Assurance. Closure. Maybe Claudia had too, or maybe she'd just been looking for a drink or maybe she'd been going over papers—whatever she'd been doing, that feeling had overcome her, the hopelessness that reeked in this damn house.

"I know, Claudia." Johnny sighs. What he means _is I know, but we can't_ or maybe _I know, but I don't want _or something like that—but instead he just says _I know_ and it sounds like _me too_. Claudia is more than just a woman. She's an angry, embittered hate machine. And she's his sister, which changes all the rules.

"All this space between us," she says, like they're not pressed so close it's hard to breathe," it's not such a good thing." If she wants to be close, closer, then that's – well, he's not a good enough man to push her away for long.

"This is the last time, Claudia." He warns her, like he always does, and the twitch of her lips tells him that she doesn't believe a word. Maybe she's still the big sister who protected him from every evil of the Zacchara home for as long as she could, and maybe somewhere deep down he's still the little boy who needed that--but mostly they were too shaped and formed by their loss and lives to be the same people at all. Now, it was Claudia who needed him.

"Whatever you say, John." Claudia whispered, lipstick fading with each press to Johnny's throat, and he doesn't believe her. She'll come again some other cold, frightful night and crumple his resistance with her sad eyes and leave him to a guilt he knows she doesn't feel. Because she's Claudia and Claudia has more things to feel guilty about than sleeping with her younger brother and—

"Stop thinking." Claudia demands, taking his face in her cold hands, "Love me."

As if he could ever stop.


End file.
